


Where No-One Goes

by Angryangryowl



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Bets, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Skinny Dipping, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angryangryowl/pseuds/Angryangryowl
Summary: What they really both need is a vacation. And to forget about their rivalry a little while. And make good on a few drunken promises.





	Where No-One Goes

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 'Skinny Dipping'

'Are you sure about this? It's not too late to back out..’ 

Jim glances over at Oswald, who eyes the glassy surface of the lake a few feet below them warily.

'True..’ Oswald says thoughtfully, tracing a thumb down his own front, over the heavy silver buttons and thick damask of his waistcoat front 'But I promised. Perhaps inebriated, perhaps against my better judgement, but I promised. Besides, nobody is likely to see us out here.’

Jim eyes the treeline surrounding the small stretch of water, fed from one end by a last, shallow waterfall. There's nothing, nobody in sight, the only noise is the distant, hollow echo of birdsong and the hushing of the wind in the trees. Even the cabin, a small hideaway Jim's father had left in his care, was lost among the trees. A meandering trail connects it to a creaking wooden dock where they now stand, green with algae and age, crouched low over the lake shore.

'Friends do this...on occasion, I presume?’ 

Oswald rolls the word 'Friend’ over his tongue like he's trying it out, like he's trying not to sound too confident in..whatever this is. Whatever leads two grown men who have every right, every reason, to hate each other, to take a gamble. To somehow decide that what they really both need is a vacation. Money is no object, at least not for Oswald,heir to the Van Dahl fortune and sometime mob boss. But being seen together with the GCPD's brightest and bravest may present a few problems.

So that's how, having planned quietly for a couple of weeks, pulled in favours and politely assumed the rest, they leave, just after midnight in Jim's car. Oswald giving an uncharacteristic whoop of celebration as they sail past the city limits, out, into the woods and away. The first ‘proper’ vacation either of them have taken in years

'Friends do a lot of things…’ Jim says gravely, eyeing the water again before turning back to Oswald, mischief in his eyes 'I mean, they go on vacation together. They swim together. They make stupid drunken bets they have no intention of following through on. And some of them probably take their clothes off together too,yeah. So I think it's safe to say we’re friends. And I'm still game if you are.’

The little smile Oswald shoots him in return, part sheer joy, part daring, part giddy glee to be in on whatever game Jim is playing here, well. It sparks something in Jim's chest, affection and want, and without another word they are both undressing.

The air isn't cold, there's the barest summer breeze, preventing it being unpleasantly hot. The lake is a cool, glassy blue, and clear enough to see the pebbles at the bottom. There’s definitely worse places to swim. To win a bet. To suddenly be very naked in front of Oswald fucking Cobblepot.

Jim swallows his fears like a dry pill, leaving them stuck somewhere behind his collarbone. He pretends not to notice the meticulous way Oswald undresses, even though they are both trying to be quick. 

His waistcoat, shirt, cravat, and belt are all neatly folded on the wooden boards behind him, leaving him milk-pale and bare-chested in the watery afternoon sunlight. His mouth is a hard line, thoughtful, as he eyes the water and unfastens his trousers, sitting to slip off socks and shoes, tucking them together before he stands.

Jim only realises that he’s staring when he’s standing, shirtless, with Oswald raising a pointed eyebrow at him, hands on the waistband of his own pants.

‘Ready, detective?’

‘Jim, please, for Christ’s sake..’ He corrects automatically, before considering Oswald a moment. 

Hair still perfect. Eyes dark and glinting with mischief. Slim bare shoulders peppered with freckles and the silky pink welts of old scars. ‘It’s not too late to back out..’ He echoes, grinning at Jim, teasing him.

‘Not likely.’ He says, finality in his voice, as he pushes his pants and underwear down over his hips and to the floor, feeling a hint of satisfaction at the way Oswald’s eyes widen before he pushes his own pants to the ground. Jim thinks he sees a flash of black silk underwear. It figures.

But he can’t stare too much before they are both naked to the summer air, and Oswald is reaching for his hand, and saying with for more certainty than either of them feels ‘We jump on three. One….Two…’

They both jump as the ‘Th..’ rolls off his tongue, yelling as they hit the water with a resounding splash.

It’s a shock, enough that they both come up spluttering, hearts racing, feet scrambling to find purchase on the stony bottom of the lake, laughing. 

Jim catches Oswald’s waist without thinking, steadying him, almost letting go when Oswald glares at him, somehow a little more threatening with wet hair in his eyes and eyeliner bleeding across his cheeks.

Until Oswald’s hands are on his forearms, partly steadying himself and partly holding Jim there, close, bellies flush, a point of warmth in the chest-deep chilly water.

Jim waits, for a cue, a reprimand, something, icy blue eyes appear to be searching his face, brows furrowing like Oswald doesn’t quite understand. 

Just when Jim is about to speak, likely to say something about forgetting all this, getting warm and dry and pretending this didn’t happen, Oswald silences him with a squeeze of his elbow.

‘Thank you, Jim. Old friend. I don’t think I’ve felt like this in some time. If ever.’

His eyes are still searching, but there’s something else now, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

‘Maybe we can forget the other things. Old rivalries. What people expect of us. The past. At least for a couple of days.’

Jim smiles without really thinking about it, arm still tight around Oswald’s back. He’s a slight, reassuring weight under all those clothes, slim but not breakable like Jim thought he’d be. Not paper and matchsticks. Sinew and muscle and a fluttering heart, a determined voice, broad shoulders and slim hips. Rising up onto tiptoes, easier than anything with the water and Jim supporting his weight, and kissing him.

Soft and shy, about to pull back before Jim’s arms are tight around his waist, reassuring as he dips his chin, catching Oswald’s mouth with his own. Heart fit to burst through his ribs as he responds, messy, greedy, water slopping between them, eventually giving up trying to stand on tiptoe in favour of wrapping his legs around Jim’s waist.

There’s nothing then, but the hollow noises of the water between them and the helpless noise Oswald makes when Jim slips his hands under his thighs, supporting him, as he deepens the kiss.

***

They get back to the house eventually. Find blankets and tea and a place in front of the fire. Jim never mentions what exactly either of them won, or forfeit, for completing the bet.

Oswald never mentions that this went far better than he could he hoped for.

He only settles his head against Jim’s chest, pulling the blanket around both of them, and thanks every deity he can think of.


End file.
